Carpe Diem
by Dentelle-noir
Summary: AU. 3x4. They say it's fate when you meet the same person three times in one day. Trowa Barton, though, just can't seem to get the timing right when it comes to the beautiful blonde he keeps bumping into. Will it ever work out right?
1. Chapter 1

**Carpe Diem: Part 1 of 3**

_Dentelle noir_

Warnings: Fluff, Get-together. Un-beta'd. PG-13 this chapter--may change.

**Summary** AU. 3x4. They say it's fate when you meet the same person three times in one day. Trowa Barton,though, just can't seem to get the timing right when it comes to the beautiful blonde he keeps bumping into.

It all started with a book. I was hurrying down the bustling city street, my Starbucks in my hand and my briefcase tucked tightly under my arm. I was on my way to visit my agent and go over any last minute problems with the book release scheduled for tonight. It was my book-- The second book published with "Trowa Barton" as its author, actually. Everyone was going to be asking me about a third tonight, and that just pissed me off. I just didn't have one, and why could people NEVER be happy with what they had?

My first book had been an action story, and the one being launched today was its sequel. I did not want to do a third in the same genre. I was sick of wars and stoic heroes. My agent, Wufei Chang, told me to try something romantic and uplifting, and I scoffed at him. Every time I turned around all I saw was people closed in their own worlds and bumping, hitting, pushing past everyone around them just to get to their own destinations a quarter second faster. It was sickening. How was I supposed to write something about the good in humanity when this was what was all around me? I saw a man reading a book—my book? What did it matter?-- while he navigated the sidewalk like a bulldozer.

You would have thought that since I saw him coming I would have been able to avoid him, but I swerved to the left, stepping onto the door step of the little bakery/coffee shop to avoid him. Stupidly, though, the idiot hadn't even bothered to see what I was doing, and even though I had given him the whole goddamn sidewalk, he plowed right into me, his shoulder knocking me back with such force that I went stumbling into the bakery door.

Which some idiot on a phone ("No, Dan, I don't know what you're talking about? I-what? That's not what I meant! Look, can't we just... work this out?") was opening, just in time to make me fly into the shop and skid on the tile floor, my coffee flipping back and completely soaking my crisp white business shirt in scalding dark roast.

"HOLY SHIT!" the man on the phone squeaked, and dropped his phone, the dainty little instrument popping apart into about three pieces. I knew he would go to pick it up like most—

He walked right over the remains of his phone and yelled for a towel, and began to blot my shirt, "Are you alright?! Are you burnt?" he asked frantically. The clearest blue eyes I had ever seen looked up into my eyes, worry for a perfect stranger glittering in them. He was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful, too, with soft features and cherub-blonde hair but an inner strength that I could see from the furrow his brows. He was probably wondering if I was going to sue him.

"I'm alright...Just... Fuck." My shirt was completely ruined, which I wouldn't really care that much about, except I was on my way to a business meeting! "Murphy's fucking law" I grunted, and it was true. The only day that I cared... THIS happened?

The blonde smiled softly, "I bet you were on your way to something important, right?" The blonde asked. He had handed me the towel by now, and was retrieving the pieces of his phone, sticking them back together. It started ringing as soon as it was re-connected, but he just glared at it for a moment, then stuffed it into his pocket.

"Meeting with my agent." I replied with a grunt, gingerly pulling myself off the tile floor and shaking the dirt and coffee drips off myself. Thankfully my coat had been mostly saved (and what wasn't was hardly noticeable, since my coat was a deep brown, just like my hair).

"Are you an actor?" The blonde asked, blinking in surprised, "You really don't seem the type... Not talkative enough."

"Writer," I responded in one word. Perhaps he was right about my lack of chatter; I never used a phrase when one word would do all the work I needed. I personally hated idle chit-chat. Everything I recorded was integral to the story, character, symbolism. It all had a meaning. Why spend time on the 'hello' and 'how de'do's of the world when they didn't do anything but add weight? I didn't find a need for all that.

"A writer! That makes much more sense. Well, this was one heck of a 'hello' right? Hello! My name's Quatre." The blonde said, rummaging through what seemed like a gym bag, holding his own coffee aloft in his other hand.

I envied his coffee. I also thought it was funny that he would make such a point of saying the greeting that I had just been rallying against, yet, with those soft blue eyes and a big bright smile looking expectantly at me, I couldn't say anything BUT: "Hello."

"I...Have a clean T-shirt if it will help you?" The blonde said, pulling out a white sporty T from the gym bag and gesturing it my way, "It's a medium...a little big for me, maybe too small for you... I'm sorry it's all I have..."

"Talk about giving people the shirt off your back," I said in surprise.

Behind the bakery counter the server burst out laughing, his braid swinging behind him as he cackled madly. Even the blonde was grinning, wiping a tear from his eye, "Duo's always saying that stuff about me. I never realized it could be taken literally...You must be quite an interesting writer."

"Not really," I responded easily, "I've only written two published books, and people only read them for the explosions and hot teenage pilots, I think. My writing skill is barely part of the equation."

The blonde laughed...and it was the most musical and beautiful thing I had ever heard... Right on the wings of that thought, I could hear Wufei on my shoulder telling me in that elitist know-it-all voice he reserved especially for advice to me: "Carpe Diem, Barton! Or you'll never stop seeing the miserable side of everything."

"I'm actually having a book launch tonight. It's going to be quite the party... Would you like to come? I could give you your shirt back them..." I asked, suddenly feeling nervous, but remembering Wufei's words, and produced a slim card—it was an invitation and free-pass to get in. I knew, though, I wasn't asking him to come as a way to thank him for his assistance or to give him back the shirt. I think he was well aware of it too, because he blushed.

The phone in his pocket began to ring again with renewed vigor, and he bit his lip. "I- I'm sorry...I would have liked to go, but... I'm supposed to be having dinner tonight...with my boyfriend. I'm sorry..." and he smiled sadly, holding the phone in his hand as it rang like crazy.

I nodded softly, "I'm sorry. Of course you are. That was very abrupt of me. I just... Carpe Diem, you know?"

Quatre smiled brightly, warming up to me again and chirped, "Definitely!" But that damn phone just kept ringing! The blonde seemed to be getting frustrated with it too. He grabbed his coffee and stuffed the invitation into his gym bag, zipping it closed, and then moving back towards the door, waving backwards at me sadly, and then his face turned hard as he opened the phone and yelled into it, "WHAT Dan!? –No, I didn't hang up on you! A guy stumbled into me and my phone—Why are you so angry!?" and then he was gone, out in the street and off on his way.

The man behind the counter clicked his tongue, getting my attention, and he sighed, "All the good ones are taken," as a condolence. "Why don't you change in the bathroom, dude? By the way—Have I read your book?"

I lifted a brow, "And I would know if you've read my book...how?" I said cynically. I wasn't in the best spirits, now that the sunny blonde was gone and I was now LATE on top of being covered in coffee and hassled. My inner cynic was kicking the inner Wufei for making me think I just might have had a chance with the blonde.

"You never gave Quatre your name, you know, Author-Boy. Real smooth, I mean, asking him out before introductions? Good one." The server said as he wiped down the display case.

Christ. He was absolutely right. I sighed in defeat, "My name is Trowa. Trowa Barton...if he happens to be back here..."

"Oh, he will be. He is every day. You can bring his shirt back here too, dude. I'll make sure he gets it." And that was what I thought would be the last of that meeting. The city was huge. Unless he decided at the last minute to attend the book signing and launch, I didn't think I'd ever see him again.

Little did I know, Fate was out to make my life a little brighter. Apparently fate was sick of my war-books too. Who knows, maybe she was a fan?

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Carpe Diem: Part 2 of 3**

_Dentelle noir_

Warnings: Fluff, Get-together. Un-beta'd (cause not one's OL at this hour and it's my Trowa day entry!) PG-13 this chapter--may change.

**Summary** AU. 3x4. They say it's fate when you meet the same person three times in one day. Trowa Barton, though, just can't seem to get the timing right when it comes to the beautiful blonde he keeps bumping into. Will it ever work out right?

* * *

**Part 2: Plenty of fish in the Sea.**

"I'm wondering why you keep starting in the kitchens...you hardly touched the food you ordered." Wufei remarked dryly, his brow lifting in that condescending way that only he could pull off and still have people like him. He had been promoting my books since I was first sighned and I though thought that he had a special place in his heart for me. He seldom asked any of his other clients personal questions, let along meddled in their daily lives. I liked to think that Wufei Chang and I could be called 'friends'. Both of us were not inherently emotive, so many onlookers thought we were barely acquaintances, but Wufei Chang was probably the only person I felt close enough with to even tell about that chance meeting this morning with the blonde of my dreams.

"So...now you're looking in the kitchens because you think...what? He just might be here?"

"How uncharacteristically optimistic of me, I know." I replied dryly and sighed, "Plus, I've already seen just about every cook, waiter, and bus boy. He's not here."

"Perhaps you're regretting not asking him out this morning and that's why you're so hooked on him? There's plenty of fish in the sea, Trowa. I keep telling you! Carpe Diem! You have to take opportunities as they arise, not just write books about the might have beens!"

"I DID _Carpe_ the damn _Diem_, Wufei!" I snarled back—perhaps I was short because I was disappointed that I had listened to that little Wufei-voice, because sometimes a 'could have' was better then the reality. "He's taken, Wufei."

"All the good ones are taken" Wufei said in condolence.

Why? What was the purpose of that catch-phrase-advice? It wasn't even helpful, or even logical—"If all the good ones are taken, does that make us single guys undesirable?"

Wufei glared and hissed, "Smart ass. I don't know about you and your hermit tendencies, but I'm perfect."

I couldn't help but laugh. Typical Wufei ego, yet he never failed to make me feel better when he poked fun at himself—I knew it wasn't easy for a guy like him and it reminded me of how good a friend he was.

W had finished up the party details, and our lunch was long finished, so I excused myself to the 'gentleman's room' as stated in a restaurant as fancy as this as Wufei handled the cheque with his corporate platinum card—There were certain perks to writing a widely popular book about hot teen pilots and explosions.

When I got into the bathroom, though, I was immediately concerned. One of the stalls was closed...and an eerily familiar gym bag was hiding the shoes of the person inside. But most jarring of all was the wracking sobs coming from the only other gentleman in the washroom. What were the chances of any other male carrying that same generic gym bag in the city? When put that way what he was about to do seemed a little ridiculous, but he did it anyway. Carpe Diem, right?

"Quatre? Is that you in there?"

The crying suddenly stopped, but no reply came.

"It's Trowa. Trowa Barton? We met earlier today...you gave me your shirt? Is that you in there, I'd feel very stupid talking to anyone else..."

There were a few sniffles, and a sound or two, then shaky and full of stops, the person in the stall got out "Hello, Trowa... You- You didn't tell me your name earlier."

It was Quatre. No matter the chances, I had WON! "I know I didn't. Stupid me. It's Trowa Barton, anyway..."

"I know it is. It was on the invitation you gave me" Quatre said, a little smile obvious in his tone, even though the tears were still audible.

I leaned against the wall of the stall, and in the softest most soothing voice I could muster, I tried to open up. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong? Why are you upset?"

Quatre was leaning against the wall too. Unconsciously, unknowing, just the difference of half an inch of steel and they would have been embracing. But neither knew. "I broke up with Dan. Well... He wanted to "see other people" namely, everyone at the fucking bars downtown who'd let him screw them. He's done it before...I caught him a few times-"

"And you STAYED! Quatre?! What the hell! Drop his cheating ass!" I said before I even processed all the information.

Quatre snorted, "What happened to 'stand by your man'?"

"It was replaced with 'I ain't no holler-back girl'...who EVER wrote those lyrics? What does that even MEAN? It seems a little ridiculous to have become a saying."

"All the world's full of stupid sayings, and all the men and women merely players, parroting the mindless quotes instead of thinking for themselves." Quatre replied, smiling slightly if his voice was anything to go by. It seemed he was starting to open up to me just a little. Perhaps there was a chance?

"I have to admit... I was thinking of you during lunch. Did you ever hear? It's an old superstition...if you randomly meet someone three times in the same day...they're destined to be important to your life."

"How's that any different then the recycled old phrases?" Quatre replied. "And this is just TWICE. Don't be so cocky Mr. Trowa Barton."

I laughed, "You're QUITE right. And I'm not even really meeting you, am I? I'm talking to a stall."

The door opened, and rather confused Wufei entered, a tall dashing brow-haired man behind him, "And that IS crazy, Trowa."

"Is this him, Trowa Barton! Hello! I'm Dan Wethers; I wrote Passion in Polynesia. Won the Freedrck medal this year." Lovely... Another egotistical writer. And if I remembered correctly, he was one of Wufei's other clients as well.

"Hello Dan--Dan?" And I shut the hell up before I gave away that Quatre was in the stall right beside me... But it was too late. He had spied the gym bag on the floor and must have recognised it.

"Quatre! Don't be so silly! Get out of there! I bet you don't even know who's here! It's Trowa Barton! You love his book!" and then Dan turned embarrassed eyes to us, "do forgive him... He's very...'emotional'...Takes things out of context and makes a mountain out of a mole hill," he said, rolling his eyes and saying the last bit to the stall, chastising him from outside. I wanted to clock him. I bet that would have wiped the smirk off his face.

Wufei seemed to realise who was being talked about, and tried to steer me out of the bathroom before I DID clock him... Of anyone, he knew that when it came to me, the whole "it's always the quiet ones you have to worry about" saying was completely true.

The stall door opened and out walked the blonde of my dreams—and Dan put his hands around him, kissing the top of his head as Wufei herded me out the door before I did something stupid. And I nearly laughed when I got a look at what he was wearing.

Wufei got me all the way to the parking lot before he shook me hard, half-panicked eyes looking at me asking "Have you completely lost it?"

"Did you see what he was wearing!?" Apparently Wufei had not. OH the IRONY!

"He IS a waiter at that restaurant." That side slung black apron and the thin red striping on the collar of that crisp white shirt were unmistakable. If we had been in there maybe an hour earlier?

Fate? You're timing is FUCKED UP. I was seething.

I turned on Wufei as soon as we got outside, glaring, "Why'd you pull me out of there!"

"You looked like you were about to punch out a perfectly respectable client of mine simply because he made a person you barely know cry. You don't know that blonde from a hole in the ground."

"How does one know a hole in the ground?" I retorted, just to be a smart-ass and make him drop the subject.

"Well…" drawled a self-confident voice, emerging behind us, and I didn't need to turn to know that it was Dan. "One knows what a hole in the ground IS, and not to step in it, of course. But one also knows the function, the creation, and the repercussions and results of a hole in the ground, do they not?" I didn't think more pompous, self-righteousness could roll off a person than what was coming off Dan right now. If I hadn't instantly disliked him because he got Quatre first, I would have disliked him just for that haughty tone and being a smart-ass back to my smart-ass-ness. I hoped dearly that I didn't come off like that when I said similar things; I had a feeling that Wufei would have told me, rather loudly, if I did.

"How do you really know anything, though, Dan? Do you know me?" Quatre's bright voice asked, coming out from the restaurant's front doors, leaning against the frame with his untied apron dangling from his fingertips. "Does knowing what I look like, how I was born, and what my job is mean that you 'know' me? That's creation, function, and appearance."

"But not result," I picked up immediately and glanced Quatre's way…and he was looking pleased that I had caught on, so I continued, "No one knows the future of another person...If it's about the 'repercussions' as you said, Dan, then you can't truly know another person..."

"On the other hand, though," and at that, Quatre did the cutest thing I've ever seen. He held out his other hand and moved them up and down as if balancing the ideas, "If you need to know the future to know a thing, then no one can truly know themselves either, because no one knows the future."

"Perhaps knowing something's future isn't a necessity," I said, perfectly willing to change the rules of the debate.

"That's STUPID, Quatre. People know themselves!" Dan said at the same time as I, his voice louder and speaking completely over mine.

But Quatre blinked at Dan and rolled his eyes upwards, turning to look at me instead...and smiled softly.

Dan glared at me, then covered his look with indifference. I had an urge to re-invite Quatre to the book launch, then specifically say that Dan was bnot/b invited, but that was a tad too grade-school for me. And it would put Quatre on the spot; I really didn't want to do that. From the snippets I had caught, Dan was in the doghouse...and he made Quatre cry today...But I refused to be the jack-ass that made Quatre choose between Dan or I before he was ready, because I did NOT want to drive him back into Dan's arms. The prick didn't deserve Quatre, I was sure.

Another waiter—looking grumpy and frustrated—came to the side door of the restaurant and peeked out at us; he pointedly looked at Quatre, then pointed to his watch, giving him a look like 'are you ever coming back?'. Quatre blushed in embarrassment, gave him a 'one moment' finger, and turned to us in apology.

"Have a good day, Quatre." I said.

He smiled brightly, "WELL! Mister Barton! That almost sounded as casual as 'how are you'! How the mighty have fallen, hm?" he was teasing me—that was an accomplishment!

"That's my third fall of the day!" I teased back, and it was true. I fell into Quatre, fell for Quatre, and now I was falling again? Somehow, I didn't mind so much. "Please. You know how I hate meaningless ceremony. Just "Trowa" is fine. We do seem to keep falling into each other and all..." I chanced, and won.

Quatre smiled even brighter, a dusting of blush on his cheeks, "If you chance to meet the same person three times in a day...they say it's fate." I just about cheered! He was reminding me of our conversation in the bathroom... That meant he thought there was something between us too. Right?

Dan cut in viciously before we could flirt any more, "Perhaps 'Trowa' should invite us to his fancy book launch tonight. I've been trying to get a ticket for you, Love, out of Wufei here. I know how you already asked if I could get you an advanced copy of that book..."

Quatre looked uncomfortable for a moment, and I glared, "I'm sorry Dan, but inviting yourself just won't work this time. You need an actual invitation to attend," which Quatre already had inside that gym bag of his, but Dan didn't know that, and I had no intention of telling him. I'd leave the decision in Quatre's court. "I'm sorry, Dan. It's a fairly small launch." But I really wasn't sorry. Not in the LEAST! Actually, it felt GREAT, and I think Dan could tell as my lips began to lift into a smirk little by little.

That other waiter came back to the door, looking frustratedly at Quatre, and the blonde squeaked, scurrying back inside with a fond farewell to us. Dan huffed off to his car, muttering a little under his breath, and I just watched Quatre talk to the man with a serious face until he turned a cornor, and I couldn't see him anymore.

Wufei waited until Dan was gone to glare at me and freak out, "Why, WHY of all people you had to pick a fight with, did it have to be Dan Wethers! He won the Freedrick medal! Why do you have to go ga-ga over HIS guy, Trowa?! Are you trying to give me an aneurysm?"

"There may be plenty of fish in the sea, Wufei, but they are not all created equal. That's why men risk their lives to fish Alaskan Salmon, and Tuna comes in a can."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Carpe Diem: Part 3 of 3**

_Dentelle noir_

Warnings: Fluff, Get-together. PG-13 this chapter--may change.

**Summary** AU. 3x4. They say it's fate when you meet the same person three times in one day. Trowa Barton, though, just can't seem to get the timing right when it comes to the beautiful blonde he keeps bumping into. Will it ever work out right?

* * *

I sat on the stool, my arms rested on the bar, not believing that I was there and stooping to that level. Quatre had tied me up in so many knots that now I was desperate. The man behind the bar lifted a brow at me in question.

"Hit me with your best shot, and make it a double," I said.

The man behind the bar, Duo was his name I finally remembered, lifted his brow even more, "I just serve coffee, dude."

"I know. Make it a double espresso, straight up," I said back, smiling a little this time. His good humour was contagious, really, and I already felt myself relaxing a little and getting a little more optimistic.

"You're gonna be as hyper as a chipmunk, dude, how about a single cappuccino and you tell me what's on your mind?" He asked with all the skill of a seasoned veteran. I wondered if he moonlighted as a therapist or something.

"Quatre," I responded miserably. It was true. He was all that was on my mind, and getting more preoccupying as the day went on. "And I met Dan. He made Quatre cry…I give up pretending I don't care….What's up with them. Why?" I finally broke. I knew it was considered being an ass to find this out through a third person, but someone like Quatre was making me question everything I had believed in. And it was thrilling. And scary. But wonderful at the same time, and I was hoping he'd walk into the coffee shop and I could just sweep him up into my arms and—

Thankfully Duo cut me off before my mind planned out the elaborate wooing I just was not at yet, "Quatre and Dan? Match made in GOD knows where," Duo sighed, "I honestly don't know why Quatre's so hung on him. The guy wasn't that bad to him at first. I never liked him, but Quatre did, so I shut my mouth and watched. He never treated Quatre good, but ever since that Freederick medal, it's been going down hill. Dan didn't invite him to the medal-awarding party, you know."

Ouch! No one really enjoyed those parties, but, for him not to invite his boyfriend? That had to have hurt. "Quatre was crying at lunch, and I'm pretty sure it was because of Dan," I said, remembering how heartbreaking just hearing it had been.

"Yeah," Duo said, sipping his coffee—no wonder he was always so perky. I bet he got free coffee all day, working at a coffee shop and all! I just sipped my cappuccino and waited for him to continue, "Dan's hiding something from Quatre. Something big. Quat knows it, and Dan's been hot and cold with him all week. Quat thinks he's having an affair, but he doesn't want to admit that. He was interviewed by this super-hot reporter from the Monthly Lit Mag and Quatre thinks a lot more went on, since suddenly Dan was being a total asshole. He can't prove it, of course, and, in typical Quatre style, he's giving Dan the benefit of the doubt."

And just knowing that Quatre was doing that, thinking on the positive side and waiting it out, it made me want him even more, "Dan's a pompous asshole, and he doesn't even know what he's got." I sighed, wanting so much to pull Dan from the picture so that I could just have a chance! All I wanted was a chance.

Duo smiled and a little glint of mischief sparked, "You know, I could always…" And he cut off abruptly.

The phone in the back of the coffee shop went off like mad, just when I was sure Duo was about to offer to set us up together. DAMN IT. I just couldn't catch a break today! Duo began to toy with the phone cord, leaning into the wall with his back to me, talking low and flirtingly with whomever was on the other end of the line, and I knew it was a hopeless wait now. I sighed and got up. I had to go. Wufei would already kill me for having a coffee instead of picking up that sub tray from the Deli for the party. Now the place would be closing!

Thankfully I caught the workers just before they turned the lights off in their department, and I thanked fate for at least giving me that much!

Not surprisingly, Wufei was pissed I was running late, and as soon as I got to the party he shooed me into a closet to change into the look he wanted me to pull off that night. It was an all black suit. I remembered expressly telling him that I did not want a suit.

I blamed Quatre for what I was about to do, I really did, I blamed him for the spark of rebellion that welled up in me. I left the suit right where it was, walking into the party with the plain black trousers and black turtleneck I'd been wearing since that afternoon. Bad things happened when I tried to wear dress shirts, really, as this morning's coffee incident should have told me. I just wasn't a 'dressy' sort of person, and the most jewellery I wore was a slim silver hoop in my right ear and my rather expensive watch, which Wufei had paid for (not picked, thank God) as a gift for selling a million copies. I had to laugh at some of the looks I got, but I felt so much more comfortable and confident that I knew I was making a better impression then what a suit would have gotten me.

And I just kept hoping someone would turn around, and Quatre would be standing there. But he never was. Everyone I met kept reminding me of him. I wanted him to show up so badly, I could taste it. And it tasted somewhat like the third tic-tac I chewed just to settle my anxious energy. If he would just show up…just for a minute? Just long enough to tell me he was interested.

I thought I saw him! I ran up to the guy, touching his shoulder to catch his attention, then realised with a start how obviously not Quatre he was. The man wasn't even a real blonde, I realised as the dark fronts and roots of his hair became obvious. And while he was short and slight and, well, pretty, like Quatre was, the black-plastic framed glasses and superior look in his eyes completely turned me off. It wasn't Quatre's body I liked, it was Quatre's…way.

The man I had mistook for Quatre for a rather delusional moment, though, lit up seeing me, and pulled out a recorder, "Hello! I just sent your agent to find you. I'm from the Monthly Literary Review…" And with a shock, I realised this was the guy Quatre thought Dan was sleeping with. He was smiling at me, and I smiled back tightly, politely, but all I could think of was how phoney his smile looked in comparison to Quatre's.

Wufei found us a moment later, and directed us over to a small alcove off the side of the main party-goers with two close-set chairs and a table. The reporter set up, while Wufei fixed my collar, "We'll get you on Literary Monthly's cover yet" Wufei said, nodding to himself.

"Well, my cover story this month is Dan Wetherstaf winning the Freederick Medal." The man said, "and it was a rather interesting interview too. Have you ever met Mr. Wetherstaff?" the reported asked just in the name of conversation. Little did he know what he just hit on.

Wufei did, though, and begged me with his eyes not to say, "I've met him. He's an asshole." Yet that's i_exactly_/i what I said, then I followed up with, "And I don't say that lightly. You really have to get on my bad side for me to say that. And Dan has."

"Reeaaaaally?" How so?" He said excitedly, flicking the recorder on and pulling out a notepad, scribbling furiously.

"He treats his boyfriend terribly. He made him cry."

"…The twit?"

And something about that response seemed terribly, horribly wrong. "Excuse me?"

The reporter blinked, then rummaged in his messenger-style bag, pulling out this month's Lit Review with a smiling picture of Dan holding the Frederick Medal (it came out to subscribers this afternoon, and was probably sitting in my mail box right now), then he flicked through to a two page spread about it, showing me quickly before reading it to me, "Well, I had been saying how he won for being able to craft such a deeply metaphorical book and I asked him 'Do you feel it hard to convey your thoughts and feelings to others around you? Your partner and family?' and then Dan said back to me: 'I can talk to my family, yes, we're all Ivy league graduates...My partner? Well...I'll say it frankly: He's a twit. He works in food-service and wouldn't understand a metaphor if it hit him on the head, and I'd be surprised if he could SPELL sophistication. He's very good looking, though, but your typical blonde in just about everything else.' So...Is this the one you mean?" The reporter asked, looking up at my horrified expression under the rims of his pompous eye glasses.

I completely saw red. I usually think before I speak, weigh my words carefully, but it all just came out in a rush of words, "That pompous ASSHOLE! Quatre is NO twit! He's a brilliant, optimistic, beautiful PERSON, Who has more sophistication in his pinkie finger then Dan could ever understand! Quatre never hits you over the head with his intellect, but he can argue Dan's feeble mind into the ground! Quatre's brilliant, with a keen eye for seeing the best in all the people he meets, showing kindness to complete strangers! He literally—and I mean it's in my car right now!-- Gave me the shirt off his back when I was knocked into him by the rude, uncaring people of this city! Quatre is the kind of person who single-handedly redeems humanity in my eyes! He's the kind of person I want to star in my next novel!" And as soon as I said that, I knew how true it was. I wanted to write my next model about Quatre...

"I see…so he's a wonderful attribute to the human race and not a twit. And you're head over heels for him. Planning to try and take him from the Freederick medal-winning author?" The reported asked so casually, as if it hardly mattered to him one whit. And I know that it really wouldn't, but cheapening Quatre like that just…pissed me off even more.

"He is a wonderful person! And I wouldn't try to "steal" him, because Quatre would NEVER go behind Dan's back! He's not here, is he! I invited him and he never came! Because Quatre is the kind of person who's loyal, and always gives people, even people like DAN, the benefit of the doubt, even though he thinks Dan slept with you!"

The reporter lifted a brow, "…and what if he did? It takes two to tango," he said so dryly that I knew he wasn't joking. And I could tell that he didn't care, either. He was certainly right that it took two (as much as I hated that turn of phrase, it was right), and Dan was an asshole to begin with. I just now knew he was a cheating asshole. It wasn't going to help me get Quatre, so the information really was useless. I wished I had gotten his cell phone number…maybe left mine with his coffee-shop friend? But no, I hadn't. And Quatre hadn't shown up. I had to gracefully admit defeat, as much as I did NOT want to. The pompous reporter (what a match! He and Dan would be good together, really, and look down upon everyone else together) finally got his interview, and I was even able to pull it together and crack a few jokes, talking with him a little easier.

I stayed until the very last minute just to make sure Quatre wasn't coming. I told Wufei it was to make sure everything was finished and away, but I think he knew that I was holding out on that last string of hope. But he never did come. Wallowing in self-defeat I dragged my feet to my car and drove home. And I kept thinking to myself…I never even gave him my phone number. What if he decided, after seeing what Dan had said about him and broke up with him, that he would like to go out with me? Nothing. Because in my hurry to Carpe the damn Diem I had NEVER given him my number, or even a "if you change your mind later, I'd love to take you to dinner" and I couldn't help but feel like a failure. The whole day from this morning to right now had been one huge farce. Lady luck was fucking with me, tempting me, then yanking it away at the last minute because the timing had just never been right!

Fate hated me. She did. She wasn't a fan at all, apparently. And just to rub it in, when I parked in my usual spot at the back of my apartment building and went to get into the small security door…it wouldn't budge. And just to tell me that resistance was futile, there was a little sign visible only when I got there, saying, "Please use Front Door." There had to be a fancy catch-all saying about this, right? Everything that can go wrong will go wrong, or some such nonsense?

I trudged around the entire circumference of my apartment, cursing my choice of the largest, tallest apartment building in an area. I was quite happy with my apartment actually, with the mostly-retired occupants and a no-pet rule-it was much quieter then the rowdy buildings across the street. I swung my keys on my finger, trying to make myself look forward to relaxing on the couch and reading the paper, which I hadn't had time to even crack open today, when I heard the cursing and grunting.

It was nearly midnight, and someone was moving into one of the buildings across the street from me? Or out. A midnight move wouldn't have surprised me in that neighbourhood. The human urge to stare at things took over, and I started moving a little closer to the street to get a better look at who was moving in and where the curses were coming from. It was hard to see anything, because it was pitch black and the only street lamp was on the other side of the building, but from behind the truck I saw a tiny someone tugging at a huge box that just wouldn't budge. Normally I would have walked away. I would have just went home and opened my newspaper…but one more saying I knew was "pay it forward" and since Quatre had helped me this morning, I figured I could manage a few minutes out of my oh-so-busy schedule to help this guy for a minute. And he was almost done, really, he was tugging at the last box I could see.

I pocketed my keys and walked over. By the time I got close enough to see him, he had turned his back to me to wrench pathetically at the unmoving box.

"Packed the kitchen sink, did you?" I said as an introduction and grabbed the side of the box.

"Trowa?!" The guy squeaked in shock…and I nearly had a heart attack. There was no way. No FUCKING way….

Quatre brushed sweaty bangs away from his face, blushing hotly, staring at me as if trying to gather if I was a stalker or if we just had the craziest luck in the world.

I grabbed the box again, and hauled it a bit, feeling the sheer weight of it nearly bowl me over! I looked into the box….and saw the smiling face of Dan Wetherstaff smiling up at me in glossy print, holding the Freederick Medal. "You uh…saw the article, eh?" I said.

Quatre's little blush turned angry, "YES, I saw it! I packed as soon as I finished. I…I'm sorry I missed your party. I wanted to come, but…Dan came home and… we fought and… I'm moving in with Duo and his boyfriend… Who is probably the only person who can lift this box! It's all my books…"

I reached into the box to pull out the magazine and as many books as I could carry, when I stopped again….Right underneath the magazine was my book… The first one, looking dog-eared and well-read. A bookmark-tassel was poking out near the end showing he was almost through, even though it was obvious it had been read many times before… "My…Book?" I said, blinking in confusion.

Quatre blushed hotly, "Um…yes. I wanted to read it again before I got the new one… Dan was going to get it for me, but…I'll pick it up tomorrow…"

Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem! "I, uh, I have one….here." I said, and I reached into my bag. I had one or two in there from the launch that I was supposed to use as promotional copies. This was more important!

I opened up the front, pulling out my signing pen, and wrote as I spoke. "I…I live right there," I said, pointing to the apartment building across the street, "If you get bored and wanna…have coffee some time or something…"

Duo walked out of the patio door a moment later and saw me, eyes widening in surprise as he heard me, "You've lived across from me this whole time and I never knew?" And he grabbed the box Quatre couldn't manage and hefted it into his arms while he looked at me, trying to figure out what I was going to try and force Quatre into so soon.

I shrugged, smiling softly, "I…guess it was fate. They say third time's a charm."

Quatre blushed, realising that this qualified for that third surprise meeting in one day. But I didn't want to put him on the spot right now. He'd just moved out of Dan's apparently, and, while the rules said it was fate Quatre and I were destined to be together, if I learned anything today it was to have patience. Seizing the day didn't help if you expected immediate results. I handed him the book, and walked away, waving behind me and making a graceful exit, walking into my apartment building.

And through the glass, I saw Quatre….staring awestruck for a moment, then opening the book he held, and reading what I had written:

"To Quatre, the man who gave me the shirt off his back, and stole my heart. Let's make the next meeting happen on purpose," And then I had scrawled my phone number and apartment, and I let the day end the same way it had begun: with a book, and a chance meeting I knew would result with something much more.

End.

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please leave me a nice review, even an 'i was here' works for me. We all like to be appreciated for out work, and reviews are the only way to really thank your author.


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